


words from my mouth (heart from my chest)

by GodOfGlitter



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: 3+1, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, It's cute just read it, Kissing, M/M, Public Display of Affection, frenemies to lovers, kind of, popular guy! laurent, transfer student! damen, you'll like it i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 10:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18939124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodOfGlitter/pseuds/GodOfGlitter
Summary: Where Laurent is the popular guy in school, and Damen is a transfer student who refuses to take his authority seriously.They're made for each other, really.*Or: Three times Laurent is struck speechless by Damen, and the one time it’s the other way around.





	words from my mouth (heart from my chest)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this ask by @iwonthesitatebich : Can you maybe write something where Laurent is the popular guy in school and this exchange student Damen comes in who is not scared of Laurent like the others are and he even goes so far as to defy his 'authority'. Damen just doesnt care about Laurent and that gets under Laurent's skin so much that he cant help but feel drawn towards this new guy at school. Also, I hope you're having a good day! ^_^
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for asking! You can find me on tumblr (@godofglitter) and I answer requests!
> 
> Also special thanks to @nikitajackson for being my beta on this one- I made you work so much omg I love you.

1.

When Laurent de Vere walks into the school, the halls _buzz._

It’s something that he’s used to now, after years of popularity that he wears as a second skin and scrutiny about every single aspect of his life, from his perfect clothes (that just so happen to be five times more expensive than the rags the other kids wear) to his perfect grades- and just his perfect life, in general.

He enjoys it, really. Some part of him thinks that he was born to be a king, and that fate has rewarded him with beautiful genes and an enormous wealth and a kingdom full of sleep deprived, rowdy teenagers to fulfil some kind of destiny. In some ways, he’s glad he’s popular- because if he weren’t, he’d be a giant outcast, and that wouldn’t do at all.

It helps that Auguste had been the life of the school when he’d graduated. _Everyone_ practically worshipped him, the golden star of the school who was nice to people and didn’t take his status too seriously. They’d all expected Laurent to fall in his footsteps, and it gives him some sort of satisfaction to uphold himself as someone _above_ the rest of the class, someone who knows more band is more worthy of the stale air they all breathe for so many hours a day.

Mostly, the morning rounds of gossip are about the outfit he’s wearing that day- usually something classy, expensive, and highly obscuring- not a flash of pale skin left bare for prying eyes to feast on. He makes sure they have something to talk about, having grown to actually like the constant buzz and badly concealed stares he gets as he makes his way to his locker, just a few minutes shy of the first bell ringing.

That day, everything is different.

He doesn’t notice it at first, beyond a vague, unsettling sense that comes with the breaking of routine. By the time he reaches his locker (and manages to note the conspicuous reduction in the number of stares he gets as he does so) he’s concluded that something major has happened in the school, which has drawn the attention away from him.

By listening to the excited exclamations of the people he shares his homeroom with, he gets to know that the ‘major thing’ is just some transfer student from some exotic place, and he soon loses interest in the entire spectacle and just waits for life to return back to its orbit.

With him at the centre, of course.

It takes longer than he expects, and it frustrates him that that irritates him. Thankfully, things improve by the time lunch rolls around, and he’s even stopped just after he gets his tray by some star struck junior asking about the best way to study for the upcoming SATs. He almost grins smugly, answering the blatantly flirtatious girl on autopilot. She’s pretty, with glossed up hair that she wraps around her fingers (obviously) and bright eyes that seem to genuinely care about what he’s saying (and not just the casual flex of his arms as he shifts the tray from one hand to another). She’s not his type, of course, but he still finds himself encouraging her a little, grateful for the slice of normalcy in this highly abnormal day.

He’s just moving on to the merits of Barron’s over Kaplan, when he sees _him._

It takes him a _minute,_ just to- to _breathe_ after seeing the perfection of a human being walk into the cafeteria. Suddenly, he realises why the entire school is talking about him so much- he would, too… if he had any friends to talk about him to. He’s leagues away from the rest of the school, with massive muscles that ripple suggestively from under a thin jacket that really seems to reveal more than it hides. He walks confidently, _owning_ the space he occupies, entirely unbothered by the way the entire hall seems to be _glued_ to him, helpless and unable- unwilling- to look away.

Laurent is forced to turn away by the blushing girl in front of him, then, and it takes him another minute to extricate himself from what is now a tedious conversation. Once he’s excused himself- politely of course, he’s not a barbarian- he looks around the hall-

-only to find the boy he’s been seeking sitting on _his_ table.

He should be angry. He should march up there and demand an apology, if not for his own sake then at least for the sake of the people all around. Instead, he finds himself grateful, somehow, that the universe has awarded him this opportunity to talk to him- because God knows he would never be able to do it otherwise.

Almost- but not quite- shyly, he makes his way to his table, acutely aware of how the entire room falls more silent with every step he takes. There’s still a distant buzz of excited conversation around him when he reaches it, and he’s suddenly grateful, because the first words that fall awkwardly out of his mouth are- “Gods, you’re hot.”

The boy turns to look at him in surprise, and Laurent notices how _dark_ his eyes are, smouldering dangerously behind a thick mane of hair that he bets feels exquisite. Unbidden, a blush comes to his cheeks and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t drive it off. This annoys him a little, that the boy can crack his perfect exterior with just one look, and it gives him the power he needs to raise his voice a little above the rising din of the spectators.

“I said, you’re in my spot.” He says, infusing a bit of the frustration from the day into his words, and hoping against hope that his first sentence will be ignored by everyone.

For a second, the boy doesn’t say anything, and Laurent actually entertains the thought that he might win this one. Except _of course_ he can’t, because just the next second the boy quips back with an entirely too self-assured smirk, “Don’t see your name written on it, honey.”

And Laurent is struck speechless, not just by the shameless use of the term of endearment or the rich baritone that seems to emerge from deep within the boy’s chest (really, how can a teenager have a voice that _deep?)_. For the first time in _years,_ someone other than his brother has talked back to him, and it feels- weird. He doesn’t know how to react, except to blush deeper, the red mottling the white of his cheeks in an unattractive way, and before he knows it, he’s made his first Uncalculated Decision of this year- he’s taken the seat opposite to the boy’s.

“Don’t see your name on it, either.” He says, hyper-aware of the way the words taste like defeat on his tongue. He _feels_ the shocked looks the students throw their way, but his pride keeps him firmly in place and drives him to unwrap his sandwich and take a defiant bite into it, like nothing is out of the ordinary.

“It’s Damen, by the way.” Says the boy, his voice coloured heavily with amusement that is not lost on Laurent. He raises a sceptical eyebrow at him, as if saying _and I care, because?-_

-and Damen just _laughs,_ drawing Laurent’s eyes almost involuntarily to the sweet set of dimples that give him a charmingly rakish look, before reaching forward to snatch his barely eaten sandwich from his still fingers. For a second, their hands touch, and Laurent is _embarrassed_ by how much the small contact affects him- like electricity is shooting though his veins, making him see stars in the bright daylight- and then Damen gets up and walks away, and all Laurent can do is _stare._

This is going to be a _long_ day.

 

2.

_Of fucking course_ he’s on the fucking football team. This is _exactly_ what Laurent needs. _Not._

He notices it when he’s walking towards his chemistry class, having decided to take the field route that day because of the awesome weather that they’ve been lucky enough to have. And if the route takes him away from where stupid Damen’s locker is, then that’s just an added benefit that no one has to talk about. They’ve been sitting together at lunch all week, and it’s getting on Laurent’s nerves, how much the new boy _disregards_ his carefully built up authority. It irks him even more that he actually _likes_ it, likes having someone who doesn’t cower before him or look at him like he’s hung up the stars just by existing.

In a way, he’s glad he’s clutching his books so tightly against his chest, because if he weren’t they’d fall right out of his shocked cold fingers when he sees _him-_ completely shirtless and laughing carelessly with his head thrown back. Laurent stops moving, because _oh damn_ those muscles look even better when they’re out in the open and _who the fuck allowed him to ever wear a shirt?_

He’s sweaty, still grinning a dimpled smile that makes Laurent heart flap around like a fish in his chest. It _hurts,_ how beautiful this boy is, and suddenly Laurent is hit with this wave of insecurity and _shame-_ because he’s so unattainable it’s unreal, and of course he’ll never get to have what he dreams of.

He clenches his fists tighter around the pile of books he’s holding, mentally reciting the periodic table of elements to make his heartbeat return back to normal, and he’s just about to leave when _he_ turns and looks directly into his eyes, making a jolt run down his spine and his stomach clench with unrestrained excitement.

_Please don’t come over, please don’t come over-_ he chants in his head, even as Damen begins jogging towards him- and did he hit his head and somehow land in a crappy teenage movie? Because how the fuck is it possible for someone to look _so damn_ attractive _all the time,_ and-

“Like what you see?” says Damen, the slight breathlessness in his voice doing _things_ to Laurent. And this close, his muscles seem even more unreal and- and just _big,_ and Laurent can’t help but stare longingly at the rows of washboard abs that dip into the most delicious divot, and then to the rippling biceps that are now pushing back glinting hair from brighter eyes.

“I- um. I don’t-“ he stutters, tongue lying heavy in his mouth, making it hard to form coherent words. Not that his brain is faring any better, really. “You’re not-“ he begins, and is saved from further foot-in-mouth embarrassment when the bell rings, letting him know he’s tardy for class- for the first time _ever._

“I have to go,” he says- rushed, awkward- just as Damen says “See you later-”.

In a flash- and after one last look at those gorgeous abs- Laurent steels his resolve and turns away, just barely catching the smirk that comes onto Damen’s devious lips before he speaks one last time, “-Laurent.”

(Later, in class, the blush on his cheeks _refuses_ to leave, the memory of the way his name had curled around Damen’s tongue playing over and over in his mind till he realises he’s been staring out the window for the better part of an hour.

He blames it all on the run to the classroom.)

 

3.

“-And then I read the script- which is _awesome,_ by the way, how do you infuse so much magic in your words?- anyway, so I read the script, and I realised that there are scenes where I’d have to kiss a guy, and, well Laurent, you know how I am, the opposite sex doesn’t really interest me that much- so anyway I was thinking about sucking it up when Damen gave me the perfect idea! He said-“

“ _What did you just say?”_

They’re in the empty classroom the theatre club has been graciously awarded for practice, and Laurent has been trying to compile a list of props he’ll need for a minor performance while Vannes- the proposed lead and resident chatterbox- chews his ears off with some talk or another. In a futile attempt to preserve his precious brain cells, he’s been trying to drown her conversation out, replying with the customary ‘yeah, sure’ and ‘mmhmm’ that he’s learnt from countless _other_ stifling conversations.

The moment she says _his_ name, though, his attention snags and then doesn’t let go.

“Oh gods, Laurent, I wish you’d pay more attention to me. I _said_ that Damen- you know, the new kid you sit with every lunch- listened to my predicament of having to kiss boys, and he so graciously jumped and volunteered to take my place! He said he’s bi, so it doesn’t matter to him-“

For the second time, Laurent finds himself cutting her off, this time with a crudely disguised flash of interest and an overly casual- “Yeah, he said that?”

And Vannes, bless her soul, seems to understand. She doesn’t say anything much, just smiles a little suggestively at him and pins him down with dancing eyes that seem to see more than just the guilty blush staining his pale skin. Laurent realises, briefly, that they’d actually make good friends, and vows to actually listen to what she says next time onwards. Seems like a fair start.

She’s talking about how the addition of a bi character will actually make the script better- a valid point that Laurent begrudgingly agrees with- when the subject of their conversation comes waltzing into the room, making both of them turn somewhat guiltily in his direction.

“Okay, I know it’s probably not true, but you two look like you’ve just been planning my murder.” Says Damen, already laughing the stupid laugh that makes the blush Laurent has fought off resurface with a vengeance. He’s going to have to learn to control that, _soon._

Vannes laughs along, glancing at Laurent in a purposefully exaggerated way, and Laurent finds himself retracting his earlier statement. She will _not_ be a suitable friend. In fact, she shouldn’t even be a part of the group, considering how much she-

“So I heard about the part, and it seems great! Do you think the script can be adjusted to include a bi character?” asks Damen, turning slightly so that his burning gaze lies entirely on Laurent. Vannes makes some poor excuse about talking to someone about lighting- this is going to be performed on an open stage, they don’t even _have_ lighting- and makes a hasty retreat, and Laurent knows he’s in some deep shit when he barely even notices, too pinned down by the intensity of the impossibly dark eyes trained on him.

Damen’s words register in his brain a little too late, and by the time he scrounges up enough presence of mind to say something the silence has moved from expectant to nearly predatory. He _forces_ himself to open his mouth, pointedly trying to ignore the all too knowing smirk Damen directs his way, and nearly cringes when the first words that fall out of his mouth are nothing but jumbled syllables.

“Ahem. Yes, I think you’ll be adequate for the role.” He says on his second try, and the only reason he’s able to make coherent sentences is because he’s pointedly avoiding eye contact. Or even looking at Damen, really.

Thankfully, _thankfully,_ Vannes calls him away after that, and he seizes the opportunity like a much needed lifeboat to get _the hell_ away from stupid mind-numbing, distracting Damen. When he reaches her, she grins deviously and pats him almost sympathetically, and Laurent vows to invite her to his lunch table sometime.

(The next day, the cast receives the revised script, which has been censored dramatically- practically all the kissing scenes have been removed.

Laurent just says it’s for the art.

_For the art.)_

+1

Damianos Akeilos is _not_ ready for this.

See the thing is, he knows how he looks. He’s used his flexing biceps and the charming side-grin he has plenty of times before to know that they _work._ Clearly, the vast list of the people who’ve lost their hearts to him is proof enough. So he thinks, with a small, ~~healthy~~ amount of confidence, that he can handle anyone.

All of that changes when he meets Laurent.

He’s the first thing Vannes (who makes it her responsibility to show him the ropes of the school) tells him about, and if he didn’t already know her sexual orientation, he’d think she’s crushing _hard_ on the guy. From the way she talks about him, Damen gets the feeling that he’s going to be some rich brat, overly sure of his own allure and not above using his so called power for harm. He thinks he’s going to be snobbish, spoilt, and just in general a bad experience.

He’s not.

Laurent de Vere is calmly confident, with the brightest blue eyes that Damen has ever seen. They _shine_ with intelligence, and with happiness and shyness and all the emotions Laurent carefully keeps out of his face, for whatever reason. He can see why everyone thinks of him as unattainable, otherworldly- but to Damen, he just looks like someone who’s practically _begging_ to be unravelled and _seen._

It all starts- coincidentally, some might say- on his first day in the new school, during the Lunch Spectacle, as people have started calling it. It’s when he realised how _resplendent_ Laurent could look while blushing, and just how shockingly open he can be when he doesn’t think too hard about what he’s saying. Damen makes it a point to get that blush out as often as he can, after that.

And it’s _torture,_ the most exquisite, complete kind of torture there is. Laurent is infuriatingly dense, and most of his advances are met either by averted eyes and flaming cheeks or cold indifference. He’s tried everything- the classic shirtless manoeuvre, the ‘casual’ dropping of the fact that he’s bi, the subtle-but-not-really hints that he likes the time he spends with Laurent- but to no avail.

He’s heard the gossip, of course. Of how Laurent never talks to anyone unless it’s about work, or how he’s never dated anyone, even though most people are sure that he’s _not_ asexual. No one is worthy enough, is what so many people have told him, sighing like love struck teapots and gazing longingly at a seemingly ignorant Laurent. It just makes him want to try harder, until he realises he’s caught in some kind of vicious cycle that’ll probably end only when he dies (at Laurent’s hands, of course).

In some weirdly poetic way, things come to a head at the cafeteria.

It’s a nice day- a little stormy, but Damen likes storms and rain and petrichor, so he doesn’t complain. He’s sitting on ‘their’ table, reading a particularly interesting excerpt about the importance of comradery during wartime in the Political Science textbook when Laurent marches up to him, slamming his lunch tray down decisively.

“You like me.” he says, and Damen _swears_ that in that second, his heart stops.

Laurent looks a little dazed, a little crazy around the edges. It suits him, makes him look less like a princess in a high and mighty castle and more like an actual teenage boy. His hair is mussed, clearly having been fisted through multiple times, but his eyes are clear and there is a determined set to his jaw that makes Damen straighten up a little in his seat.

“It has occurred to me that you like me, and I think that we should stop beating around the bush and do something about it.” Laurent continues, heedless of the growing stares (and camera flashes) pointed their way.

“I-“ says Damen- and then stops, because he honestly can’t find a single thing to say in this scenario. He can’t deny the conclusion Laurent seems to have arrived at after extensive study- mostly because he doesn’t want to- and he can’t accept it either, because some tiny part of him thinks that this is it, this is when Laurent will tell him to leave him alone and stop cornering him shirtless at every opportunity available.

He’s still trying to think of what to say, staring at an expectant Laurent as if _that’ll_ give him some answer, when something flashes through Laurent’s eyes and the determination in them solidifies into something almost tangible.

_And then he kisses him._

In a flash, Laurent is by his side, guiding his face surprisingly gently to place a soft kiss on his lips. Damen’s brain takes it as an opportunity to short circuit and _die,_ and then he’s just running on instinct, bringing his hands up to keep Laurent in place even though the angle is awkward and all the kids are gawking at them shamelessly.

Laurent’s lips are _perfect,_ lush and soft and just the right amount of inexperienced. Involuntarily, Damen closes his eyes, letting himself drown in the heat of their shared breaths and finally feeling his heart kick start back to life, going a hundred miles an hour now that he knows that his feelings are reciprocated.

The kiss ends before he wants it to, and he finds himself chasing an amused Laurent’s mouth, like he’s hooked on to it or bound by an unbreakable thread. Almost calmly, Laurent straightens up and moves- still ignoring the shocked general populace- back to his place on the table, right across a truly speechless Damen.

They sit in silence for a while, and Laurent looks steadfastly at his sandwich as Damen tries to collect himself after what is probably the most shattering kiss of his life. And he’s had a lot.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity but is probably just a minute, Damen opens his mouth to speak, almost closing it immediately after when an embarrassing sound comes out of it in lieu of words. Laurent looks up expectantly, lips twisting up in a satisfied smirk that makes Damen want to reach out and pull him back into the kiss he’s terminated so cruelly.

“I do like you,” he manages, feeling warmed from the inside when Laurent’s smirk turns into a shy, hopeful smile. “And you like me too.” He continues, letting his own lips split wide open to let out some of the sheer happiness that’s welling up inside him like an unstoppable waterfall.

And as Laurent blushes beautifully and bites his kiss-swollen lip, Damen finds himself thinking that no, he hadn’t been ready for this _at all_.

_And really, that’s a good thing._

**Author's Note:**

> Haedcannons-
> 
> -Laurent starts buying two sandwiches and Damen eats his anyway  
> -making out in the locker room, obviously  
> -them being the leads in a new play and putting in as many kissing scenes as possible and not working  
> -people being shocked when they see laurent actually laughing for the first time in their lives  
> -laurent cheering for damen at his games and being a nice supportive boyfriend (who also rewards damen when he wins)  
> -doing homework together and ending up making out   
> -quiet days when they bunk a class (yes, past-laurent is in shock) and laurent reads and damen just rests his head on larent's lap and dozes  
> -damen getting distracted easily by laurent and missing catches or whatever
> 
>  
> 
> Maybe I'll write a drabble on one of these. Hope you enjoyed! Leave a Kudos and some nice, positive comments!
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> love,  
> -N


End file.
